The Hamptons
by Chanh Tue
Summary: The story takes place at the end of 3x04, right after Castle sees Beckett walking out of the precinct with Josh. He decided to go to the Hamptons to find comfort in solitude, only to realize that fate finds a twisted way to bring him and Beckett back together. Note: English is not my first language, so please excuse any grammatical error that I may have throughout the story.
1. Scotch Neat

He quietly closed the loft's door and headed to his office. Castle did not notice Alexis, who was preoccupied with her phone texting someone at the kitchen counter, until the redhead muttered incoherently: "Hi Dad". He glanced at her and quickly realized that her eyes had barely moved away from the screen of her phone. He smiled. "Have a good night sweetie. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Martha was at a spa retreat and he was glad that his mother was not home tonight. He needed all the space he could get. He needed the silence of his bedroom and the burning sensation of his Scotch. He needed to forget everything that happened today.

* * *

Castle could barely lift his head when he was woken up by the smell of pancakes and bacon coming from the kitchen. A half-full glass of the shiny brown liquor was still in his hand and at the corner of his eye, he could see the two empty bottles of Scotch lying mockingly at the edge of his desk. The writer was still in yesterday's clothes, a red shirt and black blazer, only now there was a blanket wrapped around him. He did not remember having it when he passed out last night.

"How are you feeling darling?" Martha walked in with a cup of coffee. She was in her pajamas, which meant she had spent the night. She also had a glass of half-finished green smoothie in her other hand. The sight of it made Castle shivered. The thought of blended vegetables nauseated him and his empty stomach.

The diva carefully put the handle of the coffee mug into the palm of her son's hand.

"Mother?" Castle thought the hangover was getting better of him. "What are you doing here?"

"Alexis called late last night. She said she heard sounds of broken glasses in your room and didn't know what to do." Martha took a sip from her smoothie. "She thought I should come home, so I asked Chad's son to pick me up from the retreat and drop me off here."

Castle did not say anything. The gut-wrenching feeling went through his body, one so painful that almost made him forget about his hangover. He knew that he had worried his daughter. For sixteen years, he had tried hard to be a "cool" dad. Sixteen years and two failed marriages, not once did his daughter have to see her father drown himself in bottles of Scotch.

He took a quick look around the room. "I don't see any broken glass."

"Broken bottle, actually. I cleaned it up when I got to the loft because I didn't want you to step on them when you….you know…go to the bathroom in the middle of the night" She was hesitated to say "drunk". She then pointed to the two bottles on his desk. "Both of those bottles over there still had quite a lot in them when I left. But clearly you gave yourself a little treat when you woke up in the middle of the night."

Last night was a blur to Castle. He took off his blanket, neatly folded it, and put it on his desk. "Thanks for the blanket, Mother".

"Oh no, that wasn't me. Alexis came in this morning to see if you were awake."

"How was your retreat?" He tried to change the subject, only to realize that he just walked into another wall. "Well, part of it..."

"Relaxing." Martha looked at him. "Alexis doesn't know what she missed out by not going."

"No…no, she doesn't." Castle's words sounded no louder than a grown man's whispers. He wished that Alexis had gone with his mother. Martha nodded. "You should take a day off from the precinct today." She suggested.

Castle did not answer. He slowly stood up from his leather swivel chair, only to feel the sharp pain in the lower part of his back. "Is Alexis making breakfast?" Both knew it was a rhetorical question.

"Brunch, actually." Martha answered it anyway and walked out with him to the living room. "It's almost noon, kiddo."

"Oh…Right."

* * *

Castle was glad that Alexis had gone to the study group at her friend's place. He had always shared everything with his daughter, but he knew that on occasions like this, there were still things that better be left untold.

"You want to talk about it?" Martha interrupted.

"I'm sorry mother. I shouldn't have let Alexis see that….see _me_ like that"

"Something happened at the Precinct?"

"It's just…." Castle was at lost for words. "It's just….I don't know."

There was only a momentary pause, but for Castle, it felt like hours. He did not know what to say. He had not drunk that much since the day he said goodbye to Kyra Blaine twenty years ago at Grand Central. There…they danced their last dance; there…Kyra…she was the one that got away. He went home and drank till dusk to ease the pain of his broken heart. He drank because he wanted to wake up and have no recollection of anything that had happened. He needed to forget everything so that he could continue living his life.

For two years Castle had taken his partnership with Beckett for granted. Every day he worked with her thinking that he was one of the very few men who was lucky enough to be a part of her life. _Jim Beckett was her father. Roy Montgomery was her captain. Ryan and Esposito were her partners. I was her…her…partner. _He ignored the fact that Beckett was free to go on dates with other men, the fact that she had a personal life that he was not even close to be a part of. Until Tom Demming walked in.

Castle was jealous. They had worked countless of cases together; yet the moment Detective Demming showed up in the 12th's break room to get morning coffee with Beckett, the writer became nothing more than an expendable civilian consultant. He was replaced in the interrogation room, brushed aside so that Beckett could make room for the handsome detective from Robbery.

He knew about their date in the precinct under the candle light. He saw her kissing her new boyfriend outside of the evidence room. He heard them discussing their get-away weekend right next to the murder board, right in front of him. Because of the appearance of Demming and all of his charms, the professional, compartmentalized Beckett was replaced by an eighteen years old high school girl who just got asked out to prom by the captain of the football team.

Then there was Josh. _Josh the Motorcycle Boy. _Unlike Ryan, who waited forever to finally introduce Jenny to his cop family, Beckett took little time to show off her new romance to the rest of her team. Just when Castle thought he was given another chance, Josh waltzed in with his slicked hair and leather jacket and took everything away. After two years, Castle finally understood Beckett's message loud and clear.

He remembered seeing Beckett walking out of the 12th, Josh's arm over her shoulders, and then…and then either Ryan or Esposito asked if he was ok.

"What do you mean?" He turned and look at his partners, pushing for a sincere smile.

"Nothing. It was just a tough case, that's all." Esposito shook his head and headed back to his desk. "Have a good weekend, Castle."

Not "bro". Just… "Castle". _Apologetic._

"Yeah. Night, Castle." Ryan tried to linger for a few seconds. He looked like a little kid wanting to hug his father after a rough day at work, but after seeing the sadness in the eyes of the man whom he adored, he wasn't sure if it was an appropriate thing to do. Finally, he reluctantly turned away and went for the elevator.

"Night…" It was all that Castle could say.

Hands in his pockets, he stared blankly at the murder board, saw nothing but meaningless words and headshots of suspects and witnesses. Only then did his eyes meet the lifeless face of the mathematician who was shot by the bartender of an underground steampunk club. They just solved the case together like they had been doing for the past two years. He helped Beckett brought justice to a city that was corrupted by the glamourous lights and lifestyles.

The writer finally turned and made his way to the elevator. _I'm here for the story. _Castle told Beckett that when she asked him about his intentions. _For the story. _He wanted to come back Monday and be ready to solve another murder, to keep on living his life. To do that, he knew he had to forget everything that had happened today.

For the first time in twenty years, he decided to drink more, a lot more, than his usual two fingers of Scotch.


	2. All of Me

"I want to get a few chapters done for _Heat Rises. _You know, get a head start before Gina begins threatening to take away my advance._"_ Castle turned off the running water from the sink and looked at his mother. "I think I'll go to the Hampton this afternoon and stay there for a few days. I'll give Alexis a call, but would you mind staying at the loft with Alexis?"

Before Martha could answer, he continued. "And I'm so sorry mother. I know it's the weekend and you want to spend time with Chad, but Alexis…"

"Don't worry, kiddo." Martha nodded. She understood that her son needed some time away from the city, even though he just got back from the summer with Gina. She did not mind that Castle had refused to tell her about what happened to him last night. Whatever it was, she knew better than to push him. "Do whatever you have to do. Alexis will be fine with me as long as you leave behind your credit card and some cash before you go."

He smiled.

"Will you be answering your phone?"

"Of course, Mother." It sounded like a half-truth.

* * *

Castle was glad that he beat the 5:00PM traffic on the interstate. After a long night and a difficult afternoon, the last thing he wanted to do was to move at the speed of five miles per hour.

The news on the radio about the Ebola outbreak in Africa was rather depressing, so Castle decided to switch the station into something more positive. He was not in the mood for anything in particular; not music, not baseball, not even the food network. He just wanted to let his mind and finger wandered.

**_What would I do without your smart mouth  
__Drawing me in, and you kicking me out  
__You got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down  
__What's going on in that beautiful mind  
__I'm on your magical mystery ride  
__And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright._**

His finger stopped.

**_How many times do I have to tell you  
__Even when you're crying you're beautiful too  
__The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood_**

It was John Legend's _All of Me. _Castle had not heard it before.

**_You're my downfall, you're my muse_**

"_Muse". _Castle smirked. He could not believe that 150 miles and two hours later, Beckett was still able to crawl back into his mind, reach down, and shatter whatever left of his heart.

"_Muse". _He remembered calling her that last year, after which she threatened to break both of his legs if he was to say it again. _A broken leg might have hurt less_.

**_My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues  
__I can't stop singing, it's ringing in my head for you._**

"_Distraction". _Patterson and Connelly once told him that his lady cop had become his biggest distraction; Castle didn't argue. It was the moment when he found out that she was going away with Demming for the holiday weekend. It was four months ago, and yet he remembered every single second of it.

Two years and he still could not understand what he had with Beckett. They solved murders and caught bad guys; they build theories and finished each other's sentences; they chased after men with guns and helped each other escaped a burning apartment. They were partners, sure, but Castle had always thought that there was something more than that. _There wasn't. _

Castle could not deny that he was attracted to Beckett, but ever since she walked away from him after their first case together, Castle had known that this attraction was very different from any other one he was so used to have with his past romances. With Meredith, he was consumed with passion and sex. With Gina, there was a little bit of sophistication and a lot of enticement. With the women whose chests he signed, it was pure…shallow.

But with Beckett, there was something completely…different. She was more than a mystery that he wanted to solve. Whatever it may entailed, he wanted to be a part of her journey and even if that meant he had to push the boundaries of their partnership, so be it. He had been doing it for the past two years; he thought he was getting closer. _Was I? _

Nonetheless, with Demming and now Josh, those boundaries were getting harder to get through. Beckett was building a wall around her, and for the first time in years, Castle decided it would be best to agree with his better judgment. He thought it was time to stop and take a step back.

**_All your perfect imperfections  
__Give your all to me  
__I'll give my all to you  
__You're my end and my beginning  
__Even when I lose I'm winning  
__Cause I give you all of me  
__And you give me all of you._**

Castle once told her that he was there for the story. He told the Mayor and Captain Montgomery that he was there to do research for his novels. But after two years, both of those reasons became nothing more than an excuse. __Then why the hell do I keep coming back?__

* * *

"Good evening, Mr. Castle. How are you on this fine afternoon?"

"Good evening, Andrea. I'm well, thank you." He politely greeted the hostess. "How are you?"

"Can't complain, Mr. Castle." The young, attractive Italian woman was quite surprise. She was used to her favorite writer's flirty manners. "Table for two, as usual Mr. Castle?"

"No. Just one for tonight." He smiled.

"Right this way, Mr. Castle." Andrea led him to his usual spot at the corner of the restaurant. "Your table is ready for you."

"Thank you, Andrea. And please, let Chief Angelo know that I'd like my usual." He silently sat down but not after he had tipped the hostess nearly a day's worth of her salary.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Castle finished his meal. He did not drink much – only a couple glasses of Black Label 12 Years Old.

The restaurant was closing and the staff was finishing up mopping the floor and putting the chairs on top of the tables. Nobody was rushing the author of the _Nikki Heat _series. He had been their favorite customer for more than a decade, and even though his solo presence tonight was unprecedented, they knew better than to disturb him. Most of them would not even mind if they had to stay late tonight for the writer, but Andrea called the restaurant owner, Mr. Mercurio, anyway. It was clear that Mr. Castle needed someone to talk to, and since he and Mr. Mercurio had gone way back, it was best that she called.

Ten minutes later, a chubby Italian man showed up at the door in his khakis and a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt. He released his staff off their duties and thanked them for staying past closing hours.

"It's pretty late, Ralph. Shouldn't you be in bed with Luce?" Castle asked without waiting for his friend to sit down. He was still looking out through the window, staring at the beach that was engulfed by the darkness of the night.

"I was...until my hostess called and said someone was causing trouble at my restaurant." Mercurio laughed and answered in his thick Italian accent.

"Scotch?" Castle asked, gently pushed the glass over to his friend.

"No grazie, mio amico. Ten months sober, remember?"

"Oh…right. Congrats, Ralph." Castle looked at the Italian and smiled. There was a long pause between them. Neither wanted to talk and both knew it was not necessary to speak. They just sat there quietly, each pursued his own thoughts. Mercurio finally broke the silence.

"Mio amico, I'm sorry. It's late and I need to go back to my wife."

"Right, I'm sorry Ralph. I'll go home now so you can close up for the night." Castle softly apologized, finished the last sip of his Scotch, and stood up to get ready.

"No, no, mio amico. You don't have to go if you don't want to." He placed his palm on Castle's broad shoulders and halted his movement. "Stay as long as you need. Here is the key. Just give it back to me tomorrow when you come visit. You know where the bar is. Mio bar e suo bar. Or however the hell the Spanish say it. Just don't drink too much, ok?" Mercurio said his final words as he approached the door. "Buona notte, mio amico."

"Buona notte. And grazie" Castle nodded.

He looked at his phone and checked the time. It was almost one in the morning and Alexis should already be in bed by now. Castle decided to text her anyway.

_Arrived safely. Will be home in a few days. Have fun with gram. Love you. _

He was about to pour himself another glass but then thought better of it. He looked up from his table to admire the view one more time before going back to his house, only to realize that there was a piano at the other side of the restaurant.

He stepped towards the instrument and brushed his hands across the keys. The first five notes of _Fur Elise _pierced through the coldness and stillness of the Hampton's night. Even with the piano in the living room of his loft, Castle rarely played. He could not say he missed it; he taught himself to play when he was in college, not because he was fascinated by the black and white keyboards, but because it was one of the many ways he could use to hit on girls at parties.

He slowly sat down and closed his eyes. His fingers began to dance on the keys. _Fur Elise. _


	3. Peace

_Si, mio amico. Anything for you. Stop by and say hi to Luce. She wants your autograph for her copy of Naked Heat._

Mercurio's text woke Castle up at 7:00 the next morning. Before he left the restaurant last night, Castle had made sure to send a thank you message to his sweet, chubby Italian friend. _Being a restaurant owner's favorite writer sure has its perks_. Castle thought to himself as he walked to the bathroom to freshen up. He planned on paying his friend a visit later that day.

Alexis and Martha called to check in with him at 9:00AM. After giving them his approval of a day-long spa trip – his mother's idea no doubt – Castle suddenly sensed the complete isolation. His excuse for going away was so that he could get started on _Heat Rises_, but deep down, he knew he just wanted to be by himself. No murders. No cases. No Ryan and Esposito asking to borrow his Ferrari. No Gina. No grande skim latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla. No Beckett.

_Beckett. _

For the first time in years, Castle was confused. He was not lost, but he did not know where he was going. This thing with Beckett…this riding to murder scenes in the middle of the night…this capturing killers….this thing…had been a crucial part of his life for the past two years. He woke up every morning hoping that he would get a phone call from his partner. Was it wrong to wish for a murder to take place somewhere just so he could hear the sweetness of her voice over the phone?

Maybe it was wrong, but he didn't care. It was the only time she would call him, the only time he could walk into that precinct and bring her coffee; it was the only time he could see the smile on her face and the frown of her eyebrows when she looked through the case evidence. Castle remembered telling her that she looked cute when she frowned. It was their first case together. He remembered every second of it.

* * *

It was a sunny day in the Hampton. The view from where Castle was standing was breathtaking. The green of the evenly-cut grass beautifully complemented the forever blue of the ocean. He stood there by himself and took everything in. The air, the sound, the atmosphere. Everything. He could sense the breeze brushing by the lapels of his loosely fit blazer. He swiftly felt in love with the solitude. No murders. No cases. No...

His phone rang. It was Beckett. _Murder on a Sunday._ Castle closed his eyes and once again breathed in the fresh ocean air. _No rest for the wicked._ He let it go to voicemail.

* * *

_Heat stopped writing and capped her stick pen. She had all she needed. The housekeeper had just described Captain Montrose. _

Castle finished the last sentence of the first chapter of _Heat Rises _when the oven timer went off, reminding him that he needed to take his salmon out if he wanted the _Salmon en Croute _for dinner instead of getting cheeseburgers from the Burgeritis downtown. He saved his Word document one more time, closed his laptop, and walked over to the granite counter in the other room.

The writer took a moment to appreciate the scent that was coming from his kitchen, the scent that was finding its ways through every single corner of the mansion that was his. It was the smell of boiled egg-drop soup, baked salmon, chopped vegetables, and sauté garlics all together; it reminded him of why he learned to cook. He reached out to lower the stove top's fire, turned his body around and began dicing the cucumbers and tomatoes for his salad.

Castle enjoyed cooking for himself. He loved the feeling of being the only person in the kitchen, the only person to control the intensity of the fire, the duration of the time, and the readiness of his steak. He took order from no one; he did not have to change his favorite shrimp scampi recipe just because somebody was gluten-free and could not eat angel hair pasta. In his kitchen, Castle had the freedom to turn random ingredients into a delicious three-course meal, just like he had the freedom to turn scattered words and sentences into best-selling novels.

But that did not take away the fact that he was also passionate about cooking for other people, especially for those whom he adored. He remembered the father-daughter omelets that he occasionally made for Alexis on the weekends, the Belgian dinner that he cooked for his mother when she felt a little bit European, the soufflé that he made for Meredith when they were still married, the oysters that he prepared to get Gina in the mood, and the pancakes that he made for… _Beckett. _

_Beckett. _

Even when Castle wanted to forget the image of his partner just so he could have a moment for himself, she somehow managed to sneak back in. She sneaked back in and the flood-gate opened. Her hazel eyes…her bright smiles…her soft touches…her teasing voice…The images of her in the blue Hervé Leger dress at his book-launch party, of the leather jacket that fit her so perfectly, of her wearing the pink-and-white checkered shirt the day he won the bet and she had to take him back as her partner…they were all there, right in front of him. The harder Castle tried to forget, the easier it was for him to remember.

A sharp pain at the tip of his index brought Castle back to reality. Lost in thoughts and memories, he let the sharp knife came a little bit too close to his finger. The cut was deep and the blood was leaving a sizable trace on his cutting board. Like an airplane on autopilot, Castle went over to the sink and cleaned it off, mindlessly watched the reddened water flow into the drain.

His phone rang again. It was Beckett's name on the screen. He let it go to voicemail.

* * *

Castle finished three more chapters of _Heat Rises_ before the clock struck at midnight. Despite hours of looking at the computer screen, the veteran writer barely felt the fatigue in his eyes. It had been a fairly productive day for him in terms of writing, and yet he decided to not open the bottle of Glenmorangie that James Patterson had given him earlier in the year. He had had quite a few in the last couple of days so he thought it would be good for him to take a breather. As he reached over across the desk to grab the copy of Steven King's _Under the Dome_, his phone buzzed with an incoming text from Alexis. Castle noticed there were four missed called from Beckett.

_Detective Beckett called the loft's phone a few hours earlier and left a voicemail. I didn't get the message because gram and I didn't get in until just now. She wanted to know where you are. _

Castle hesitated. Beckett never called the loft, which meant something important must have happened at the precinct. _What kind of thing? _Even so, he did not want to talk to Beckett, not yet. But he did not want his daughter to lie to one of the few women she looked up to either. He decided to not involve his daughter in the mess that he was creating.

_You just got in? It's late. Wash up and go to bed. You have school tomorrow. I'll call Beckett. _

His phone's screen flashed almost instantly.

_K. Good night dad. Love you. _

He smiled and responded. _Love you too. _

Castle stood up from his chair, stretched his arms wide to both sides, then brought them up his face and massaged the muscles around his eyes. After pondering for a few seconds, he quietly walked over to the closet, took out his black robe and leisurely put it on. He wanted to take a short walk down at the beach to clear his mind. As he closed the door behind him, Castle looked for Beckett's name on his contact list. Just when he was about to dial, a call came in. It was Mercurio.


	4. We Meet Again

**Author's note: I have never seen Caskett as a couple who talks openly about their feelings (at least not until later on in the show). Their relationship is reflected and developed beautifully through the cases that they work together - the ways they build theories, interrogate suspects, and support each other throughout the process. As a result, my fic is meant to honor that element of the Caskett's relationship. It maybe a little bit different from all the AU that you have read, so please bare with me. Hopefully, by the end of my work, you will be able to find the answers that you are looking for. **

**In addition, as much as I wish I was, I'm not a mystery novel writer. My knowledge on criminal cases (especially the terminologies and procedures) is limited. To assist with my fic, I've taken the liberty to use details from a few cases ("The final nail" from season 3, for instance) in the show and in some of the crime novels that I have read. Please excuse my unoriginal idea, and happy reading! **

* * *

"Single stab wound to her back. Based on the way the knife is positioned, we can assume that the killer was holding the weapon like this." Lanie, raising her hand to demonstrate the attack, held the pen tightly in her fist and pointed its tip straightforward. "From the depth and severity of the injury, it's safe to say that the killer was strong, probably a male, and very angry. It didn't look like he hesitated. The blade went in deep, almost to the heel of the knife."

The ME continued and wrote down some notes. "No defensive wounds either. The victim either knew her killer or was taken by surprise. Maybe both."

"Time of death?" Beckett crouched down and examined the body.

"Can't give you the exact time until I get the body back to the morgue; but based on the body's temperature, I want to say sometimes between 7:00PM and 10:00 PM last night."

"Thanks, Lanie." Beckett looked at her friend. "And thanks again for coming."

* * *

Detective Becket was in her yoga practice this morning when Captain Montgomery called. There had been a homicide in the Montauk and she needed to report to the precinct ASAP.

"But sir," Beckett asked as she was still trying to catch up on her breath. "Since when do we take cases out in the Hamptons? We have like no jurisdiction there."

"Since the Hamptons PD called this morning and request our assistance, Detective. Apparently the only murder they got out there was when a coyote attacked Mr. Poodle."

"Mr. Poodle?"

"A Chihuahua." Captain Montgomery scoffed. "The story made it to the front page of The Hamptons Ledger. Too bad the killer got away and was never found."

* * *

So at 9:00AM on that Monday morning, Detective Kate Beckett found herself driving up east in her Crown Victoria with Lanie. The Deputy Chief of the Hamptons PD had also asked for an ME when he was on the phone with Captain Montgomery. From what Beckett heard from her Captain, their only medical examiner had gone on an extended vacation in Hawaii; the other available person with suitable medical experience was a sixty-year old veterinarian. _I bet he was the one who did the autopsy on Mr. Poodle._ Beckett suddenly imagined Castle saying that. She glanced quickly at her phone to make sure she had not miss any call from him. _Where the hell is he?_

"Of course. We don't get to take field trip like this too often." Lanie gave her friend a warm smile while continued inspecting the dead woman.

"I don't think that is necessarily a bad thing." The detective answered and took a look around the room. She was trying to find the person in charge.

"Detective Brady?" She approached a man with the "Chief" badge on his police hat. He was busy talking to one of the uniforms and did not notice the two New Yorkers when they arrived. She extended her hand. "Detective Beckett, NYPD."

"It's Chief Brady, actually." The slim man said awkwardly and returned the handshake. He was momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of the women standing in front of him. Being the Chief of the Hampton PD, he was no stranger to extravagant parties thrown by wealthy CEOs, businessmen, and real estate brokers. He would see countless of gorgeous women at these gatherings, all in their expensive dresses and jewelries. But none wore a badge like the New York Detective talking to him at the moment.

"Who found the body?" Beckett didn't seem to notice the slight tension.

"The victim's husband. He's in the bedroom with his friend right now."

"Friend?" The detective didn't wait around for Chief Brady to answer. As she headed upstairs, her mind was preoccupied with all the details from the crime scene. The victim lay dead on her right side, a knife went in deep to her back. She was mid-thirties, 5'2 – 5'4, brunette, attractive. Carefully done hair and nails meant she had a professional and comfortable life, but Beckett already knew that from looking at the interior of the house. Italianate style with some touches of Florentine architecture, this place had graceful arches colored in white and rows of picturesque windows. Beckett briefly allowed her mind wandered. She wondered what it would be like for her to live in a house like this, to come home from the precinct and make dinner with her husband. After less than five seconds, she swiftly recollected herself.

The victim was wearing a casual red and white polka dot cotton dress when she was murdered, and there was no make-up on her face. _She wasn't dressing up, which means Lanie was right. She knew her killer._

* * *

"Cas…Castle?" the sight of a familiar face stunned the veteran detective as she stepped past the bedroom's threshold.

"Beckett?" The writer turned. He was equally surprised. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"What the hell am _I _doing here?" She was still in shock. "What the hell are _you _doing here?"

Before Castle could answer, the chubby man who was standing next to him nervously and curiously cut in. "Richard, isn't that Nikki Heat?"

"Yes…I mean, NO". Castle still had not been able to take his eyes off his partner. Despite the bewilderment, however, he quickly regained his composure.

"Ralph, this is Detective Beckett, NYPD. NY as in New York, as in _not the Hamptons._" He emphasized the last three words of his introduction.

Beckett ignored the writer's snarky remarks. She showed the Italian man her badge. "Detective Beckett, NYPD. The Hamptons PD had requested our assistance on this case. Are you Mr. Raphael Mercurio?"

"Si, Signorina." His voice was barely louder than a murmur. The somberness was hard to miss.

"I'm sorry for your lost, Mr. Mercurio." She allowed a brief pause for her condolences to sink in. "If it's ok with you, I have some questions that I'd like you to answer."

"Si, Si." Mercurio sat down on his couch, forgetting to invite the two other people in the room to do the same. Neither of them seemed to mind. Both took their seat on the opposing armchairs.

"Mr. Mercurio, at what time last night did you find your wife's body?"

"Around midnight. I just got home from my restaurant."

Beckett frowned. "Do you always get home that late at night?"

"No Signorina." The Italian shook his head. "We had an incident at the restaurant yesterday. My staff and I didn't close up until well after 11:00PM."

"What kind of incident?"

"A curtain caught fire after one of the table candles fell on it." Beckett could see the distraught in the man's eyes.

"Was anybody hurt?" Castle joined in for the first time.

"No…well, yes. Our reputation."

The dry humor did little to brighten the mood. "When was the last time that you saw your wife alive?" Beckett continued.

"Around 10:00AM yesterday morning, right before I left for work." Tears began to run down Mercurio's cheeks. Castle handed his friend the box of tissue that was sitting by the desk lamp.

"Does your wife have any enemy? Do you know anybody who might have wanted to do this to her?"

As Mercurio was about to answer, Castle cut in. "There is no way a wonderful woman like Luce could have upset anyone, let along making enemies. I know Luce. She is the nicest person the Hamptons could ask for. " The writer earned nothing but a stern stare from his partner.

"No, not that I know of. She never told me anything about that. Like Richard said, she is…_was_ a lovable person. One time when she was in New York visiting her friends, she emptied every single dollar in her purse to help a homeless man. She even volunteered at a soup kitchen in Brooklyn every Sunday. Her life was dedicated to helping other people, to making this world a better place." The tears were falling harder.

Beckett stopped for a few minutes. She knew the pause helped little to ease the pain of families whose loved ones had been unjustly taken away from them, but it did give them just enough strength to get through the procedural questioning. She had done this thousands of times, and more than anybody else, she knew it was not easy to be sitting at the other end of these questions.

"The living room where you wife was murdered was completely thrashed. Did you notice anything missing from your house, Mr. Mercurio?"

"No, I haven't had time to check. I called the Richard and the cops right after I found her." Beckett heard the slip-up from the husband but she didn't want to pressure too early. _Why did he call Castle before he called 911?_

"So it could easily be a robbery gone wrong." Castle suggested.

"_Castle!_" Beckett hushed her writer. She was beginning to get irritated by his constant interruption. The detective then turned to Mercurio and decided that it was time for the final push. "Mr. Mercurio, where were you between 7:00PM and 10:00PM last night?"

It appeared clear that Castle was genuinely hurt and surprised when he heard the question. He exclaimed almost immediately. "Wait a minute. Why are you asking him that? You're actually checking for his alibi? You think he's involved?"

"It's alright Richard. I was at the restaurant all day today until midnight. I always do on Mondays. To get things ready for the rest of the week, you know?" Beckett noted down the information, but only after she had given Castle another angry glare.

"Thank you, Mr. Mercurio." She handed the Italian her card. "Please call me if you remember anything else." Beckett then turned to her partner. "Castle? A word?"

The guilty look on the writer's face was unmistakable. He followed Beckett out of the room looking like a kid just got caught stealing treats from the cookie jar.


	5. Your Fault and Mine

**Author's note: I'd like to thank all of those who have read and given me great feedback / reviews on my fic. They all mean a lot to me. **

**I hope that his chapter will clear up at least some of the confusion that chapter 4 may have caused, especially in terms of the ways Beckett acted when she saw Castle. Happy reading! **

* * *

"What in the world do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Castle asked innocently as the two of them walked downstairs and headed towards the living room.

Beckett looked straight at the writer, making no attempt to hide her built anger. "Don't, Castle. You challenged my questions in there. In front of my suspect. I…"

"Suspect?" Castle was confused. "Since when is Ralph a suspect? It is his wife who is in that living room. Dead. He just lost the woman he loved the most. How could you accuse him of killing her? It was his wife!"

"Exactly! _His _wife, Castle. This wouldn't be the first time a husband is the main suspect, would it? You of all people should know that."

By now, most of the uniforms had turned to look at the attractive detective and the writer from New York. Beckett didn't care. She was too consumed by her partner's immaturity and ignorance to notice anything that was going on around them.

She continued. "How could you just walk in my crime scene and pretend like nothing happened?" Beckett thought of the missed calls when she uttered the words, but as soon as she noticed her blunder with that last remark, she changed the subject. She didn't want to show how she felt in the middle of all this. "You have been doing this with me for more than two years now Castle. You know that I must ask these questions."

Castle was still taken aback by his partner's sudden outburst. He became defensive. "Hold on a sec. This is Ralph's we're talking about. I have known the guy for more than ten years. He would never do anything like this, not in a million years."

"It doesn't matter if he is your friend, Castle. There's a dead body in that living room, and until I catch the killer, everybody is a suspect." Beckett showed no sign of calming down. "I will go about with this case like I do with any other case. You know that."

"Fine, then let's find the killer." Castle stepped towards Luce Mercurio's body.

"No." Beckett firmly placed her palm of the chest of the writer, stopping him from taking any step further. "_I _will find the killer. _You _will go back to wherever the hell…"

"Detective Beckett?" The ME's voice came in to cut the rising tension. "The body is ready to be taken back to the morgue. We're leaving now. I think it's best that you join me for the autopsy."

"Lanie, I…" The detective turned to face her Lanie.

"The driver is waiting." It wasn't a negotiation and Beckett knew it. She sighed and threw Castle one last look before leaving with her best friend.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Lanie didn't even wait for the ambulance's doors to be fully closed to start her interrogation.

"What?" It was Beckett's turn to ask innocently.

"Girl, it's a short ride to the morgue. You better start talking before I'm getting busy with Mrs. Mercurio over here." She kept her eyes fixed on the detective. For a moment, Beckett questioned her friend's decision to go to medical school. With stern eyes like that, the ME could make the toughest perb confessed every single one of his sins.

""I was upset, ok? What do you want me to do? He challenged my authority in front of the suspect." The detective still tried to avoid eye-contact.

"Are you sure that was the only reason why you tore him apart in that living room? In front of the Hamptons PD folks? If I didn't cut in, we might have had another murder to be worried about."

"Yes." Beckett said emphatically.

"So this had nothing to do with the fact that he didn't answer his phone yesterday?" Lanie raised her right eyebrow. She wanted a confession, and she was determined to get it.

She had anticipated the question, and yet Beckett was still unprepared when it was asked. After calling Castle several times yesterday, all of which went to voicemail, she was…worried. It was not like Castle to not call back after he had missed a call; even though the case they were working on was a simple homicide, one that did not need any of Castle's crazy theories, she suddenly felt the emptiness of the precinct when he wasn't there. The chair that he usually sat at…the jokes he made…the back-and-forth bantering with Ryan and Esposito…the coffee…_the coffee._ It was the same feeling that she had to go through in those three dreadful summer months, the summer that began with Castle leaving her to go to the Hamptons with his ex-wife. He left the moment she was about to accept his invitation to spend their weekend in the Hamptons together. He left when she was ready to give him the key to the layers of her walls.

"No Lanie. I don't care if he doesn't pick up his damn phone. I'm not his mother." It was neither here nor there and both of them knew it.

"You thought he was hiding from you again." The ME played her ace card.

"Absolutely not. And what do you mean 'again'?" The detective shrugged.

"Really? Are we going to play this game, Kate?" Lanie pushed harder. "After the whole Demming fiasco, Castle didn't call you for three months. Now, he doesn't answer his phone after you paraded your cardiac surgeon in the precinct. Two days later, you found him in the Hamptons, and I'm just throwing out a wild guess here, without his mother, daughter, or ex-wife-slash-girlfriend-slash-whatever the hell they call themselves. Please don't tell me you don't see it."

"See what?" Even with all the evidence lay in front of her, Beckett refused to cooperate.

"Girl, I'mma…"

"Ladies, we're here." The ambulance driver interrupted before the ME could finish her threat. He then mimicked the voice of a tour guide. "Welcome to the Hamptons PD morgue. Thank you for riding with us today and we hope to see you again. It's 80 degree outside and 40 degree inside the building. Please enjoy your stay."

He then proceeded to help them carry the stretcher into the morgue, took one quick look at the unfamiliar sight of the body bag, and left through the double door in a hurry.

"Charming, that one." Lanie remarked.

The detective didn't answer. Even though she refused to admit it, deep down Beckett knew her friend was right. Beckett didn't mind that Castle challenged her questions in front of Mercurio. He was looking out for his friend who was devastated by the image of his wife lying dead in their living room. She knew Mercurio was someone whom her partner held dearly and she probably would have done the exact same thing if she was put in the same situation. Her anger stemmed from something else, something much more complicated than the mere fact that Castle just showed up at her crime scene and surprised her.

Beckett didn't know where Castle was yesterday. She was so used to hearing his voice after the third ring and the ringtone of her phone when he called back; when neither of those things happened, the detective felt an unusual clenched in her stomach. She didn't have Alexis and Martha's numbers, so she tried the loft's. There was no answer. _What if something happened? _ Even when the progress of the case was distracting her, all Beckett could think of was how to get in touch with Castle.

Josh noticed something was wrong when he picked her up from the precinct, but she couldn't tell her boyfriend what was on her mind. _Boyfriend. _She thought about the surgeon. They met a month ago; he offered to fix her bike when it broke down on her way to her dad's cabin for the weekend. She went their hoping that she could finally get the image of Castle and his ex-wife out of her head. She went there to forget everything so that she could focus on the cases that were piling up on her desk.

_He never called. _She went there to finally accept the fact that Castle might not be coming back.

_Maybe I was too late. _She remembered thinking that at the time. So when Josh asked her out to coffee, she agreed after a brief moment of hesitation. _He was just a guy at the right place at the right time. _

Then Castle came back. He came back and Beckett remembered the image of her partner walking out on her with his ex-wife. He came back and Beckett remembered everything that she tried so hard to forget. But the walls that she had built up since her mother's murder had helped her to face him again, to take him back as her partner, and to work with him as her friend. _Friends. Partners._ It was finally back to normal for her, to be able to work on cases with Castle. She missed that. _Or was it him that she missed? _Beckett didn't want to answer that question. She didn't want to confront the idea that there was something between them that was more than partnership. She understood that Castle was happy with Gina now. _Friends introduce their boyfriend/girlfriend to each other, don't they? In the end, didn't Castle introduce Gina to me four months ago? So what's wrong with me introducing Josh to him and everyone else? _She remembered rationalizing that when she finally made the decision to ask Josh to pick her up from the precinct, knowing full well that everybody would be there to meet him. _Everybody._

And then she found him here. _Here, in the Hamptons, 200 miles away. _Beckett was afraid that Lanie was right. She was afraid to think that Castle was trying to hide from her. She was afraid that she had made the wrong decision to accept that coffee date with Josh. She was confused. _But he is happy with Gina. _Once again, she rationalized. Somehow, Castle knew how to crack her walls.

She tried to push all her confusion down to the deepest part of her head, hid it in a box so that she could solve this murder and bring justice to the victim. But when she saw Castle, everything went loose. In the most mysterious ways that only he knew how, Castle was the only person who could do that. He was the only person who could make her think with her heart. The moment Beckett saw Castle, she wanted to ask him everything – about Gina, about Josh, about their partnership; she wanted to know if he was running away from her, to know if she had done anything wrong. She wanted to tell him how worried she was yesterday when he didn't answer her calls. She wanted to follow her heart, but because she was Katherine Beckett of the NYPD, she had to let her head made the decision. The two most vital organs of her body clashed and she crashed. She crashed and yelled at her partner right in the middle of a crime scene, right in front of the Hamptons PD. At that moment, she wasn't the clear-headed NYPD cop who was the youngest female officer in New York to become a detective. At that moment, she was Katherine Beckett, a woman who was overwhelmed by all the emotions and feelings that she thought she could shield herself from. _Castle. _

Beckett knew she was lost but she was determined to not let it get in the way of her work. She needed to continue this investigation, even though Castle's image was dancing in her head. She sincerely appreciated Lanie for stopping her from a complete meltdown, and thus she had planned on thanking the ME later when all of this messed was cleaned up. Now, Beckett had a job to do. "Lanie, what am I doing here? Can't you just send me what you find later? Like you always do?" Beckett looked like a child anxious to run home and catch her favorite episode of _Dora the Explorer. _"I have a crime scene to investigate and a murder to solve."

"Fine, do whatever you want." As Beckett was about to call for a ride from one of the uniforms, Lanie continued, unaware of the chaos that was going on in the mind of her best friend. "Just so you know, if you end up shooting Castle, don't list me as an alibi."


	6. Separation

**Author's note:**** I'm sorry for the lengthy delay. **

* * *

Beckett called her partner as soon as she got in the car with Officer Crosset. "Esposito, can you check on a guy name Raphael Mercurio? That's M-E-R-C-U-R-I-O."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"Not at the moment. Hamptons PD is working the crime scene right now; if they find anything, they'll send it to you guys first thing. Let me know as soon as you find anything." She answered and hung up.

"We're heading back to the crime scene, Detective?"

"No. Do you know where Mercurio's restaurant is, Officer?" Beckett asked without looking up from her phone. She was checking if there was any email from the Precinct.

"Know it? My sister works there." The young female officer sounded excited. "They have the most amazing mushroom and sausage risotto. We can try it for lunch."

"Sure. If nothing comes up." The detective seemed distracted by the gorgeous view outside her window. As they drove pass the narrow two-line road that hugged the side of a grass-covered hill, Beckett could smell the ocean and its tangy odor of salt coming through her side of the car. She could hear the waves crashing onto the shore, washing away anything and everything that lay in their paths. She could feel the breeze brushing against her elbow, playing gently with the curls of her hair. She soaked it all in and let her mind wandered. She could have been on this drive four months ago, but instead of a uniform in the driver's seat, it would have been Castle. They would be talking about cases, about her blew-up apartment, and about his books; he would want to change the radio station and she would slap his hand away. She was planning of bringing her blue bikinis with her. A part of her wanted to see the look on Castle's face when he saw her in them. It would have been a memorable summer. _For her. For both of them._

Half an hour went by and neither person said a word. Officer Crosset had rolled down both side windows, inviting in the freshness that only the Hamptons had to offer. Finally, the uniform broke the comfort that Beckett was immerging herself in. "So…how long have you and Mr. Castle been together?"

"Excuse me?"

"I was wondering how long you two have been dating. You know," Officer Crosset shrugged. She kept her eyes fixed on the road. "from all the scenes between Rook and Nikki Heat, I assumed you guys must have been together for a while. My dad was a writer. He always tells me that to write the characters, you must live the characters."

"Castle and I are partners. We work together." Beckett wasn't feeling like explaining herself. She had had this conversation before. With Lanie. With her father. With Agent Jordan Shaw.

"But Nikki Heat…"

"…is a fictional character." She interrupted her new fan. She felt bad for being quite rude to her new acquaintance, who might be just a little bit too carried away to see the real version of a fictional character. Beckett had not been herself the whole day; the incidence with Castle and the conversation with Lanie were still haunting her, and despite her best efforts to separate the personal and professional lives, she still found it difficult to contain her troubled feelings. But there was little she could do except going ahead with the investigation and hope that the day would be over soon. So she changed the subject. "Has your sister ever mentioned anything about Mr. Mercurio?"

"Not really. From what I know, he's just a nice guy who loves his restaurant. He has a huge collection of crime novel, too." Officer Crosset paid little attention to the tension. She had never met Richard Castle, but being an avid reader of the genre, Crosset had followed the writer's books closely. Raphael Mercurio may have a whole bookshelf dedicated to mystery literary works, but Crosset's collection was no less impressive. Being a cop, it came natural that she was amazed with Nikki Heat; like her other sisters, Crosset fell in love with the detective's piercing intelligence and bad-ass fighting skill. More than that, she wanted to find her own Jameson Rook and have a romance that would rival the story of Romeo and Juliet. So when she met Kate Beckett, saying that the officer was star-struck would be an understatement.

Crosset slowed down her Crown Vic as she answered and quickly brought the vehicle to a complete stop. "You can ask my sister yourself. We're here. _Mercurio's Finests._"

* * *

"Chief, is the NYPD actually taking over the investigation?" Castle approached his cop friend after Beckett and Lanie left the crime scene with the body.

"No, this is still my case. They're just helping out."

"So you're the one calling the shots? The lead detective who'll break this case wide open and bring the killer to justice?"

Sensing the trap, the Hamptons PD's Chief looked up from his notepad and looked at the writer. "What do you want Castle?"

"Let me help, please? You know my track records with the folks in New York. I can help"

"Castle, you're not in New York anymore. This is the Hamptons. Things are different here." Chief Brady shook his head.

_Yeah, different as in you've never seen a dead body until two hours ago. _"Come on Chief! Ralph and I went way back. I can't just sit here and do nothing when his wife's murder is still somewhere out there." He pled to the Chief's softer side.

"Look, Castle. I know how you feel, but Detective Beckett took you off the case. And since I'll need all the resources I can get from the NYPD, I'd rather stay on her good side."

"She's not the Chief. You are." Castle remained persistent. "Plus, she won't even know. I'll stay out of her way completely. I'll just talk to you guys."

But before Chief Brady could begin to get irritated by Castle's stubbornness, a uniform showed up behind the door and interrupted their conversation. "Chief, CSU found something. You want us to send it to the NYPD?"

"Show me first, Tucker."

"Is that a 'Yes' Chief?" The writer swung for the fence.

"Fine Castle. But if Detective Beckett asked, I knew nothing about this."

"Know nothing about what?"

* * *

Castle was heading towards home in his silver Mercedes when he got the call from Ryan. He had reached out to the 12th earlier in the afternoon after his talk with Chief Brady, but all his calls went straight to his partner's voicemail. Detective Ryan sounded concerned.

"Hey Castle, you called?"

"Yeah. Where were you?"

"Espo and I were interrogating a suspect from a case. What's up?"

"What case? I thought you guys are working on the Hamptons' murder?" His voice trailed off towards the end of the question. He didn't want to remind Mercurio, who was sitting next to him in the passenger sit, of the tragedy that just took place not twenty-four hours ago. He had offered to take his friend home for the night. _No one should be alone when something like that happened to him and his family._

"There are more than one murder, Castle." As if he realized something, Detective Ryan continued. "Wait, how do you know about the Hamptons' case? Did you finally answer Beckett's calls?"

Castle was caught by surprised, but he quickly steered away from the slippery slope. "Have you and Esposito found anything?"

"Umm…not quite. Esposito is still looking in to a Ralph Mercurio. He's the victim's husband. Nothing unusual so far, just some traffic violations."

A sense of uneasiness troubled the writer when he heard the information. Even though he knew it was only procedure, Castle was still uncomfortable about Beckett checking in on his friend. "You have anything on the finger prints Hamptons PD sent over?" It was the main development that Castle wanted to know. Earlier, CSU had found a different set of finger prints – not the Mercurios' – on the murder weapon. There wasn't a match on the Hamptons' database so Chief Brady sent them over to the NYPD.

"Castle, this isn't CSI: Miami. We just got the prints two hours ago, and there are other prints here waiting. It's going to take time to find a match." Ryan said. "If there is a match at all."

Castle was disappointed to say the list. Even though it was a long shot, he was expecting that the result had come in for those prints. The sooner they caught the killer, the sooner his dear friend would be free of police's suspicion and move on with his life. _How could you ever move on from this? _But Castle knew nothing was that easy.

"All right, thanks Ryan. Would you mind letting me know when you find anything?" Castle added. "And one more thing. Don't tell Beckett I called."

He hung up before his partner could ask any more question.

"Nothing on the prints yet." The words quickly got lost in the quiet of the night. They were consumed by almost complete darkness, with only the beams from their vehicle's headlights guiding the way. There were two men in that car, but somehow the silence managed to swallow up the silver Mercedes. As he drove, Castle saw the fog outside his window and felt the mist inside his chest. He sighed.


	7. Sleepless Night

Beckett closed the door behind her as she entered the hotel room. They were in the Hamptons, which meant the cheapest two-bedroom they could find was $120 a night. _Hopefully the Precinct would expense it. _Lanie was already sound asleep in her bed, wearing nothing but a thin night gown that barely covered "the girls" as she would call them from time to time. _No wonder why Esposito always looked so mesmerized when he saw Lanie. _Beckett smiled at the thought. Despite their best efforts to hide it, Espo and the M.E. were fooling nobody with their little romantic affair. The secret smiles they gave each other in the morgue, the "accidental" touching of fingers, the ways they looked at one another like no one else was in the room.

She tried to deny it, but Beckett more than once caught herself looking at Castle like he was the only one standing in the middle of the crowded precinct. He didn't see it, but for some inexplicable reasons, the detective wished just once her partner would turn around and caught her in the act. She would blush and look away. But maybe…just maybe…she would gaze into the deepest parts of his blue eyes and allowed herself to get lost in them.

The clock on the wall struck one when Beckett finally decided to put away the photos from the crime scene and head to her bed. She was exhausted; the encounter with Castle had drawn every bit of energy out of her. She knew she had overreacted at the Mercurio's, letting her emotions got the better of her words and actions. But somewhere in that calamity, the detective found the silver-lining, _if there was one_. The staff at _Mercurio's Finest _confirmed their boss's presence at the restaurant during the time of death, which meant Mercurio could be ruled out as a suspect for now. It was the first time in her career Beckett felt relieve after a suspect's alibi checked out. She was glad that he cynicism was wrong.

Beckett couldn't sleep. Even with the fatigue, she could not close her eyes without remembering the look on Castle's face when he saw her. It was a look of surprised, but there was also something else, something that she just could not understand. There was a reflection of pain in those blue eyes, as if seeing her was the last thing he wanted to do. The thought of it caused her heart to skip a beat; she had seen that look before. It was the same look Castle gave her when he heard her getaway plan with Tom Demming.

* * *

"Make yourself at home, Ralph. There are two bedrooms upstairs and another one down here behind the kitchen. Pick whichever you want. I'll be in the living room if you need me." Castle threw his keys on the granite counter as they walked in through the net door.

"Grazie Richard. You really didn't have to do this."

"I want to." Castle turned on the stove. "You should wash up. I'll make something for dinner. You must be starving."

"So are you Ricky. You haven't ate all day." Mercurio replied and walked to the upstairs' guest bathroom. His writer friend had been with him since midnight yesterday, and with the unfolding of the chain of events, neither one remembered that they had not eaten anything.

Castle was not sure what he was cooking. His hands were doing all the slicing and mixing, but his mind was still somewhere at the Mercurio's house. Fate had a twisted way of playing with his life. It wasn't enough for him to encounter a murderer when he was trying to take a break from entering bloody crime scenes and seeing dead bodies; it had to be his partners who showed up. Of all the detectives in all of New York's precincts, it had to be Kate Beckett of the 12th.

Castle's phone buzzed. He hit "Answer" without checking the caller's ID. "Castle."

"Rick, what the hell is going on?" _Gina. _

"Hey Gina. I'm sorry, I meant to call you. Something came up and I got carried away."

"Rick, you went off-grid for the past two days, without even calling or texting me. Imagine my surprise when I got to the loft this afternoon only to find out that you've gone to the Hamptons by yourself."

"Gina, you were in Europe."

"So what? Our phones have international plan."

"What do you expect me to do?" he asked. "Give you a play-by-play of my life? Plus, it's not like I'm here for pleasure. I'm starting on Heat Rises, just like you wanted me to."

"A message would have been nice." Castle's ex-wife-slash-girlfriend smoothened her tone and offered the olive branch. "I have the next couple of days off. You want me to come up there and keep you company?"

"No, don't. Things are a little bit…complicated here right now. I'll call you when I get back to New York."

"When will that be?"

"Look Gina. I don't know." Castle flustered. "Just call me if you need anything, and I'll do the same. It's late now. I'll talk to you later."

Castle heard Mercurio's footsteps on the staircases just when he ended the call. Both the French Onion soup and the chicken salad were ready.

"Trouble in paradise?" Mercurio asked.

"Hm?"

"The phone call. Wasn't that Detective Beckett?"

"No. That was…Gina." Castle shrugged.

"Ah, the other woman of Richard Castle's life."

"Just shut up and eat, will you?"

Despite the simplicity of the food, it was a long dinner. They talked about each other's life. Castle mentioned his ideas for the next book of the Nikki Heat series, and Mercurio talked about his daughter, Bella, who was still at piano camp and wouldn't be back until Wednesday. For hours, both men tried their best to not talk about Luce's death. They tried to forget that everything was real; they wanted it to be a bad dream that they could just wake up from. But now, they had to face the inevitable truth: Ralphael Mercurio had to tell his twelve-year-old daughter that her mother had been brutally murdered.

For the second time that day, Castle witnessed the pain that was devouring his friend. He could hear the sound of Mercurio's heart being broken into pieces. The writer had seen death before; he wrote about death for a living. But never before had he experienced a tragedy that hit so close to home. He wanted to comfort Mercurio yet he didn't know how. He didn't know if he should hug his friend or just let him be alone for a brief minute. Time seemed to have stopped and all that remained were sorrow and immense agony.

"It's late and you should get some sleep. Thanks again for everything Richard." The Italian wiped the tears away with his bare hands, rinsed his dishes in the sink and headed back upstairs. "I'll talk to you tomorrow. Buonanotte, mio amico."

"Night…"

Castle finished washing the dishes. Instead of slipping into his pajamas and getting ready for bed, he poured himself a glass of wine and walked out to his pool in the back. It was a chilly fall night, but after a day like the one he just had, Castle didn't seem to mind. He stood by the edge of his pool and starred aimlessly into the night. For three days he had forgotten about Gina. Ever since the Motorcycle Boy walked in the bullpen with his cocky smirk and walked out with the most remarkable woman Castle had ever met, the writer had forgotten that he was in a relationship. He couldn't understand why it was so easy for his heart to just put away his relationship with Gina, and yet so difficult for that mindless organ to erase the image of Beckett's smile when he brought her coffee in the morning.

Castle thought their lives had gone back to normal after he made that eventful return to the 12th. He hoped with him being a relationship, everything he once felt for his partner would be buried deep down and never see the light of day again. He was back to do more research for his books; he was back to bring justice to the victims. For four months he set his heart straight. Until Josh came and made Castle realized all he had been doing was building a house of cards.


	8. You Were There

The sun had yet to rise when Beckett got up the next morning. She had little less than four hours of sleep, so when she put on her cream coat and stepped outside, the detective was wishing nothing more than a warm cup of latte. She would have considered the hotel's complimentary coffee if it wasn't for the fact that it was the Nescafe's instant kind. With the case unraveling from bad to worse, Beckett knew she needed something stronger to carry her through the day.

There was a local coffee shop a couple of blocks away from her hotel. Beckett spotted it when Officer Crosset was dropping her off last night. She had always been hesitant of trying new coffee places, but since there was no other option, she had to give that place a try. For years she had gotten her latte from either the Starbucks near the Precinct or from the break-room, even though the latter's was usually so terrible that even "disgusting" would be an understatement. Castle said it tasted like battery acid with monkey pee in it. She chuckled a little, discretely hid her small burst of emotion from the concierge who was holding the door open for her. Beckett thought about her partner, wondering if Castle had stayed with his friend the whole night, if he was still at the crime scene trying to solve this case by himself. She had taken him off the case, but she knew better than believing in his willingness to step back. One way or another, he would insinuate himself into the investigation.

When the first rays of sunlight touched the dryness of her lips, Beckett thought she was still in one of her dreams; somewhere in that caffeine-deprived mind of hers, she could see a man in red-and-black striped shirt and dark blue blazer approaching, two cups of coffees in hands, and she knew…she knew one of them was for her.

* * *

The man was charming; he was smiling at her, the smile that she had grown very fond of ever since she first saw it on the book jacket of her first Richard Castle's novel. She found the book in a small store that was sandwiched between two fancy restaurants near Stanford. She had walked passed that place hundreds of time on her morning commutes from the apartment to her classes, and yet not once did she have the time to go in and browse through the sections. There wasn't anything special about the place except for its big glass window that allowed people to look inside and see rows and rows of books being displayed. It had everything, from science textbooks to those three-penny romance novels, from Stephen King's first ever fiction to Lee Child's newest mystery. Outside the door there would usually be a small box asking for donations – toys, canned food, and clothes – for the local drives that supported the homeless shelter nearby.

* * *

Kate had taken the red-eye from New York and just landed before the crack of dawn. She had left the city right after her mother's funeral reception, too wounded to stay near any place that would remind her of the woman who had given her life and nineteen-years of happiness. Wandering aimlessly on the street of Serra Mall, the pre-law sophomore found herself drowning in a sea of pain and hopelessness.

It was before she met Dick Coonan. Back then, she only knew a mugger had taken her mother away from her and the cops were making little efforts to solve the case. They wrote it off as a random mugging gone wrong.

A few hours into the reception, her father took her to Coney Island; they wanted to get away from everything, to find a place where both of them could find a little bit of peace. When they got back, the lead officer, John Raglan was his name, approached and expressed his condolences; he said things like these happened in New York and the person who was responsible probably disappeared in the underworld of crooks and criminals. He said his teams would try their best, but she shouldn't raise her hopes up. Right at that moment, Beckett fell a fire of rage burning inside her; she wanted to slap the man in uniform as hard as she could, punch him, and tear him apart. Her mother was dead and this man was telling her that there was little the police could do. So she left. She grabbed her bag, took the first cab she saw, and headed straight to JFK airport. She said good-bye to her father on the phone, told him that she loved him, and that she was sorry for leaving so unexpectedly. But she had to go. She knew she had to.

So there she was, a backpack with nothing more than a couple of notebooks in her hand, standing outside the bookstore that was somehow open at 5:30 in the morning. She walked inside with a blank mind, not knowing what she wanted or where she headed. An old man in blue sweater vest sat behind the counter, reading from one of the old books that still had dust on its spine. He wasn't surprised by the sight of a young gal in his shop when the sun was barely shown; she wasn't the first desperate student trying to find a textbook to prepare for the midterm that was creeping in close. But then the shopkeeper saw something else. The man was near sixty; he was at the age when most people had gone through life with many smiles and no less tears. He knew pain, and when he caught a glimpse of this girl's hazel nut eyes, he saw suffering. He stood up quietly and retrieved himself to the backroom. He wanted to give her space. It may not heal her, but it would alleviate the agony.

Kate brushed her finger across the books as she walked past the shelves. She loved the smell of books; they reminded her of her childhood when her mother would read her stories before bed. Kate hated the bed-time tales kids at her age loved. She thought they were silly; she didn't like the idea of a talking elephant or a singing rabbit. So Johanna would pull out one of the books from her collection and read it to her daughter. Even though she understood little, Kate fell in love with the hard-boiled detective stories written by Raymond Chandler and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. She adored Philip Marlowe's wits and Sherlock Holmes' cleverness. Kate had an amazing childhood; she would give anything to have it back. _To have her mother back._

She was standing at the mystery novels section. Michael Connelly, Steven King, Lee Child, James Patterson…they were all there. She had read some of their books, but as a pre-law student, she was too busy to read anything besides textbooks and law cases. Every once in a while she tried to follow the latest cases of Harry Bosch and Alex Cross, but more often than not she would get carried away with texts and papers that she never got the chance to finish them.

Kate felt the wave of exhaustion crashing into her body. She had not slept for days and all she ate had been salad and snacks from the reception. She sat down, right there on the floor, and rested her back against the shelf behind her. She brought up her knees, wrapped her arms around them, and just let her head collapsed into that shell she created. She could feel the slowing down of her heart beat, the burning sensation of the tears racing down her cheeks.

She knew she was completely lost.

Suddenly, Kate heard a small thud from her right. She raised her eyes and looked, finding a medium-sized hardcover book lying peacefully next to her. It must have been placed loosely on one of the rows and fell down when she leaned against the shelf. _In a Hail of Bullets_ the title read. She saw the bolded name of the author. _Richard Castle. _It was a name she had never heard of. She curiously flipped the book over, and there it was, a picture of a man smiling right at her. There was something about that smile she could not make sense of. It was innocent and egotistic, naïve and self-assured. But she felt the warmness slowly rising from that smile, covering her and shielding her from the world that was collapsing by her side. For the first time in days, she felt comfort.

She felt safe.


End file.
